Paraplegic
by brightspark
Summary: SeiferxSquall. What would Seifer do if Squall was injured so badly he would never fight or even walk again?


Heyheyhey!

Another fic from me and iliyana. Spawned by a random bunny that popped his head up to ask what Seifer would do if Squall got severely injured. She played Seifer, I played Squall and Quistis. I, of course, was the one who typed it up. Paraplegia is the technical name for what happens to Squall. :)

I have researched this, by the way, and although Squall doesn't know it, there are some hopes for a cure for paraplegia, and, indeed, quadraplegia.

* * *

**Squall POV**

The wall is blank. Painfully blank. White. There aren't even any smudges on it. Nothing but the best room for the crippled Commander, of course. People are tiptoeing round outside. They must think I'm stupid. I'm a god damned soldier and I know where everyone carrying a weapon is around me at all times.

Even when I'm lying in bed severely injured.

There's a tap on the door. Not a tap, a knock. Someone who actually dares to disturb me. Amazing. There's only one person who knocks like that on _my_ door, anyway, and _he_ can't be here. Why would _he_ be here? "Who is it?"

"Why, your one and only, of course." Seifer opens the door, smirking slightly and leaning against the doorframe.

Alright, so he _is_ here. No idea why, but then, that's what a voice is for. For asking questions. And I'm sure he'll make some pretence of answering them, unlike everyone else today. "Why are you here?"

He shrugs slightly, shutting the door behind him and strolling into the room, confident as always. I'd ache with jealousy, but I feel numb. As numb and blank as the white walls surrounding me. "Why are you here?" I ask him.

"Heard something interesting on the news, came to check it out."

I wish he hadn't.

Still, I expect he won't be the last one to see it on the news – I wonder what they've been saying? – and come to see me. I'm expecting Irvine and Selphie almost any minute now. Mind you, Quistis will probably hold them back. Only Seifer would dare to come right through. "You're the first, and probably not the last."

He raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to the bed. "So you're saying it's true?"

Idiot, would I ever lie down with him in the room unless I was sick, dying or unable to move because of injuries? They've at least told the partial truth or he wouldn't have rushed here… why is he here, anyway? It's not like we really matter to each other. Or we're not supposed to, anyway. "I don't know, I haven't seen the news. What does it say about it?"

Seifer shrugs, looking disbelieving, "They're blathering about a great tragedy, global terrorism that will now go undefeated and you're supposed to be paralyzed after what must've been a great and bloody battle."

"A little dramatic, but mostly the truth, I guess," I say, simply, looking away from him and waiting for it to sink in.

He grabs the chair by the small desk, reserved for my few visitors, and drags it to sit beside my bed, sitting down and stretching out his legs with a slight frown. "So what the hell happened, exactly?"

"No one is telling me the proper details, though I'm not sure what they think I'll do since I can't walk, much less fight." I shrug slightly, biting my lip and trying to sound as if this is no big deal. "I was attacked when I was alone, and I couldn't fight off so many of them…"

"Sounds like you were attacked by a bunch of cowards," he says with a snort. And then he shakes his head and looks up, trying to meet my eyes. "Can't walk or fight?"

I swallow that fucking lump in my throat and nod, a little painfully, hating to admit this, time and time again, as if admitting it makes it more true. "I'll never be able to fight again and they doubt that I will ever even walk. Severe damage to the lower part of my spinal cord."

He gets up, brimming over with anger. Always so passionate. At least it's me lying here like this, not him. He'd go insane. Not that I think I'm taking this very well anyway. "What the fuck? Who's behind this?"

"I don't know, no one is telling me anything." I'm beyond the point of anger, now. Frustrated, cold as ice, and almost… if it were something I ever did… I'd be almost crying. But Squall Leonhart doesn't cry, has never really cried, so I won't now. "They didn't exactly tell me who they were before attacking me, and they weren't in any uniform I know of."

"Fuck!" He kicks his chair across the room in a fit of rage, clenching his fists. He turns back to me, eyes narrowed, and grits his words out through clenched teeth, "You know what? I'm gonna find these assholes and make sure they never walk again either. Or breathe, for that matter."

"Waste of time."

"What? You're fucking kidding me, right?" His voice gets louder as he speaks, disbelieving. He doesn't understand how little I care about this. Nor do I, to be truthful. In the place of all the anger and rage I should be feeling, there is only a horrible numbness.

As numb as my legs are now.

"It isn't going to help me walk or fight again, is it?"

Damn, I hate him. The numbness was a little more comfortable when he wasn't here, but now he's forcing me to see how pathetic I must look in his eyes. Damn him for always bringing out the emotion in me. I hate him for this. I was okay until he was here and now I'm almost crying. I haven't cried since I was a child. Not like this, anyway.

"No, but it'll teach those bastards a lesson they won't forget." He sighs, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down a little. He walks across the room and retrieves his chair and sits down beside my bed again. I struggle against the tears, finding an indifferent mask that he'll probably see through in an instant.

"If you want to do it, go ahead. I wish I could fight with you."

"Well, it's you I'm fucking doing it for."

"Whatever."

I turn my head into the pillow, not wanting to feel his eyes on me again. He's not critical, he's… _gentle_. From him, that's almost worse. As I lay there, eyes closed, fighting a losing battle against a rising bubble of emotion, he puts a hand on my shoulder. He knows it's no comfort, but he's trying. Why is he trying? Leave me alone, Seifer. You can't see me like this.

I wipe the tears from my eyes roughly before Seifer can see them. "Can you leave me alone now?"

He doesn't go. Instead, he moves from the chair to the edge of my bed, looking down at me. I glare at him and I know there are tears still in my eyes. His voice is horribly soft, gentle, unlike him. "Fuck," he says, as he stretches out beside me, putting an arm around my waist. I can't even really move away to make him feel unwelcome or dislodge him. There's no point in trying.

Paralyzed from the waist down.

The doctors tried to sound all optimistic. The spinal cord apparently isn't completely severed. If I stay completely still, maybe it will heal and I'll be perfectly okay. They look at me with such pity, and that tells me all I need to know. There's no chance, they're just saying it to comfort me.

I always hated people who asserted that their lives were ruined.

Guess I hate myself, now.

"I don't want you to see me cry. Please go."

He leans his forehead against the back of my head, the gesture screaming 'no chance' without needing words. "It's not like I haven't seen you at your worst already."

"Seifer, I'm fucking paralyzed. There's no reason for you to hang around with me now."

"Quit talking bullshit."

I don't have any answer for that. He's wrong, so very wrong, but if he's determined to stay there… well, at least he isn't tiptoeing round me like I'm a sick child. Though I _am_ about as helpless as a child. He nuzzles against the back of my neck, the touch a little relaxing. I can't feel a change in my lower half, though. Why is he still here? The deal was that we'd fuck whenever we felt like it. I doubt I can ever have sex again, so why is he still here?

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Shit, I sound so vulnerable. Like a child. Again. My voice wavers a little and trembles, like I'm afraid. Hell, I _am_ afraid. I can't imagine how I'm supposed to live now. No fighting, no missions, no spying, no escaping from exploding buildings with a countdown and monsters running after me…

No Garden.

"Not spend the rest of your life in here, that's for sure."

"Guess I'm stuck with the paperwork now, huh?"

There's a spark of amusement in his voice that tells me he's biting his lip so as not to laugh. "You could still do plenty, there's enough technology and shit."

"Whatever." I sigh quietly, turning my face as far away from him as I can. "I'm a SeeD… I'm supposed to fight, and I can't do that now."

"You could always teach," he suggests.

I sigh. Teaching wouldn't be enough. And I'd hate the looks in the eyes of the students. _Commander Leonhart, hero of the latest sorceress war… paralyzed by common street criminals without a uniform or a real reason,_ they'd say. And I'd hate every minute of it. I don't like to be pitied.

"Pity I can't kick your ass anymore," I say, finally, turning to look at him.

"I'm sure you'll find some other way to try that." He shrugs slightly, and then a little more of the old challenging tone comes back into his voice. "Besides, wasn't as if you could defeat me even before this."

The familiar banter hurts more than anything so far. I can't help the tears springing to my eyes; even sinking my teeth hard into my lip in some attempt at self control doesn't help. "Nothing is ever going to be the same… maybe I should leave Garden. Go to Esthar or…"

He nods slightly, seemingly trying to be optimistic… supportive, even. I'm not used to this from him. "You've got a million options."

I sigh softly and he runs a hand through my hair, kissing my forehead lightly. That brings the questions back and I look up at him. "Why are you here?"

"Like I said, came to check if the news was true."

Is he being deliberately obtuse? "No… why are you _still_ here, now that you know?"

He keeps playing with my hair, as if he is barely paying attention to what he's doing, a rare thing for him. He shrugs slightly in answer to my question. "Guess I don't feel like leaving."

I don't really know what to say to that, but I don't have to reply as a tap sounds on the door. "Squall? Can I come in?"

It's Quistis, I'd know her voice anywhere. "Sure."

Seifer props himself up to watch the door, and I prop myself up as best as I can, too. Quistis opens the door and comes in, blinking in surprise at finding Seifer here, but greeting him amiably enough. "Hi, Seifer, I didn't know you were here." Then she turns to me, her eyes nakedly pitying. "How are you?"

"Still paralyzed, still waiting for someone to tell me who did this to me," I tell her, giving her an indifferent look as Seifer nods a greeting and lies down again. Her presence has a good effect on me – making me less and less likely to cry. Cry in front of her? Never.

She sighs softly, shutting the door behind her, "Squall… you can't do anything about it even if we tell you."

Seifer sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and looking up at her with a hard glint to his eyes. "No, but I can."

"Garden policy says we have to deal with this as well as we can, in a diplomatic way. We can't allow you to take revenge, much as we'd like to for ourselves." She crosses her arms in front of her and returns the hard look. Stupid. She might be the strongest woman I know but Seifer is more stubborn, and he never plays fair if he can help it.

He gets to his feet, stepping closer to her, towering over her. "I don't _care_ what you're allowing me to do, just tell me who the fuck did this."

She hesitates.

"Tell. Me."

She sighs softly, giving in to his stronger will. "Dissatisfied men from Timber and Dollet. Groups like Rinoa's Forest Owls, only more petty, with a bigger membership who have nothing better to do than blame SeeD for every little thing that goes wrong."

He nods in satisfaction and backs off, turning to me with that slight, almost cruel, smirk of his. "Looks like I've got a lead."

"You're an idiot," I tell him fervently, rolling my eyes.

Quistis apparently agrees, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why are you doing this for Squall?"

"Then call me an idiot, I'm still doing this," he tells me, and then turns to her, "And as for why, Trep? None of your fucking business." He doesn't wait for a reply, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Don't get yourself hurt too, Seifer," she says, warningly, perhaps out of habit.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, "This is me you're talking to, Trep."

----

I came back to Garden anyway. At the time, I didn't see how I could go anywhere else, once I'd thought it over – and I have plenty of time for thinking, now. How I could belong anywhere else? But I clearly don't belong _here_ anymore. Everyone looks at me with pity on the rare occasions I get out of my room – pushed, of course, in a wheelchair. I'm still, in name, Commander, but I doubt that will be for long.

It didn't feel so bad here until Seifer came back. He went and tortured confessions out of the people who did this to me. Killed the small fry. The ones who were behind the plan were executed and Cid and Quistis did their best to take the shit for Seifer. He was detained for a while, but then he was back. Reminding me how much things have changed. How I can't just deck him when I feel like it anymore, unless he made it easy for me.

And we've never made things easy for each other. Not in that way, anyway.

Since Seifer got back, I've been painfully reminded of everything I can't do anymore. We had a deal. I guess we don't anymore. We'd fuck whenever we felt like it, fight whenever we felt like it, and not question what the other was doing. Our private lives were our own, no questions asked.

That's all gone now. I don't see how it could carry on, anyway.

But if I can't stay here, where can I go? To Esthar? To my father?

I don't want to spend a lifetime paralyzed in Esthar with my father fussing over me. He's a wonderful man, I'm sure, if I liked that kind of treatment.

I don't think there _is_ a place where I can actually be happy again. I was brought up to fight. It was my entire reason for being at times. To fight Seifer, to be fucked by Seifer, to be taunted by Seifer. It was easy. I liked it that way.

Nothing is going to be that easy and natural again. The dead legs still attached to my body say so clearly enough.

There is _one_ easy way out.

----

I open my eyes slowly, for a moment not registering where I am, and then I remember. Paralyzed from the waist down. And I tried to kill myself last night. Who the fuck saved me? And what the hell are they on? I –

"Morning," Seifer says, and I turn my head to see him sat, or rather, slumped in a chair beside my bed. Fucking shit, if he was the one that saved me I'm going to yell at him… once I find the energy to really _want_ to yell at him. I close my eyes again, struggling for a moment to find words.

"…Why?"

He sighs softly, and doesn't look down on me as I slit my eyes open and look up at him. He looks tired. Tired and maybe a little upset. I can't remember seeing him like this before. At least not in a long time. "Didn't want you to die."

I clench my fists, a soft sigh escaping me that is much too calm for how I'm really feeling. Guess I've always been like that, though. I give him a look that is unintentionally hurt and as angry as I can make it. "What if I don't want to live?"

"If you try again, I'm just going to stop you again."

I prop myself up to get a proper look at him, narrowing my eyes. "_Why_?"

"If you aren't around, who would I talk to? Or piss off?" he says, shrugging.

I reach out and grab his arm in as tight a grip as I can manage, digging my nails in a little. There's one reason _why_ I can think of, but it doesn't suit him, doesn't suit us… no, it can't be that. "You fucking idiot."

He wrenches his arm out of my grip, getting up and using his height - because his fucking legs _work,_ don't they? – to glare down at me. "What the fuck's your problem, Leonhart?"

"I'm supposed to hang around doing nothing useful so that when you're bored you can come and talk to me and make me feel like shit because, fuck, I'd like nothing more than to 'entertain' you, fight you, whatever, but I can't even _walk_?"

"Oh, so that's what you think of me? You think I don't fucking know all that?" He grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me closer. I don't resist him. It'd be pointless. "Well, here's a newsflash, hot stuff, I'm not _just_ about fighting and fucking."

As much as it doesn't suit him… I stare at him, trying to see through him. Trying to find all the answers I need in his eyes, in his expression, in the way he's sitting. Hell, I should have found this answer when he lay down beside me when I was in that impersonal, too quiet room. Hell, I should have known because he came for me at all. He doesn't do that for just anybody.

I should have known when he tortured them for me. When he killed them. When he made sure justice – and revenge – was satisfied.

"What is it now?" he asks, with a slight frown.

I haul myself back on my hands so I can cross my arms in front of me, resting my back against the headboard. My tone is a little accusing and I don't stop staring at him, waiting for his reaction. "You love me."

"Hardly," he says, with a snort, but he doesn't look at me.

I look at him for a moment more, but I'm sure of what I figured out. I snort softly, the closest I've come to laughter in a long time. Since even before… this, I guess. "Selfish bastard."

He shrugs. "Yeah, so?"

I sigh softly, closing my eyes and tilting my head back. "This isn't a part of the deal we made. You're not supposed to interfere with what I want to do. You don't have a right to."

I hear him stand up, and the rustle of clothing indicates that he just grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, obviously planning to leave. "I don't? Then I guess the deal is over."

"Are you fucking insane?" My eyes fly open and I look at him again. "The deal was over when I was paralyzed! Or do I need to spell it out for you now that I have _no feeling at all_ from below the point my spinal cord was cut?"

He turns to me, glaring and taking deep breaths, his voice very controlled. "Okay, I get it already, thinking I could still see you and talk to you was assuming too much, quit rubbing it in."

I bite my lip, ducking my head so he can't see the look on my face, uncertain and hurt. My voice shakes like it did that first day, and I can't make it steady. "I don't know what I want now."

He sighs and before I know it, the bed dips as he sits down on the edge next to me, reaching up and cupping my cheek. I don't understand. _Why_ does he love me? Why… _who_ would want a cripple?

"What can you possibly get out of me now?"

He runs his thumb over my lips, pushing my head up and leaning closer as I look at him, a little confused. "Idiot. I already told you I'm not just sex and fighting." He kisses me softly, softly enough for me to push him away. I kiss back even more softly, just the vaguest touch of mouth on mouth, more tender than any of his previous kisses.

"But…"

"But what?" he asks, running his hand up into my hair.

"I don't…" I sigh, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and burying my face in his shoulder, my tone a little petulant. "I hate you. Ruining a perfectly good suicide attempt."

He wraps his arms around my waist and smiles, rolling his eyes, but sounding almost serious. "I'm horrible, I know."

I pull back a little, looking into his eyes. Now is when I should confess my undying love to him, I suppose, but it doesn't quite work that way. I'm not… sure if I love him. I just know that if he wants to stick around, I'm not arguing. "Can we make a new deal?"

He brushes his lips lightly over mine again, raising an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

I look down, the words burning in my mind, dying to be said. But won't I sound so needy? Won't I…? Come on, Leonhart, suck it up and spit it out. "If you promise you won't leave me, I won't leave you."

"Well, it's not like I have somewhere else I want to be." He smiles slightly, tipping my head up again. "It's a deal."


End file.
